Safety
by seetherrayne
Summary: "You know, I'm really glad you're here," he told her looking her in the eyes. She stared back, her heart swelling at the sincerity and warmth radiating from his eyes. She would never get used to that, not that she wanted to. "Me, too," she replied, smiling.
1. Chapter 1

**Alright, here's another one!**

**This one was requested by stilesbanshee on tumblr: "Your take on the possible make out/dream between Stiles and Lydia. Please and thank you :)"**

**I hope you like it!**

**I don't own Teen Wolf.**

* * *

Lydia jerked awake, disoriented.

"Wake up…"

"I'm up," she replied, stretching.

Looking around, she saw that she was in Stiles' room. She had curled up in the beanbag under the window while doing research with Stiles, and now he was telling her to wake up.

Apparently the Sheriff had turned the light off after they'd accidentally fell asleep when he left for the station, because the only reason she could see what little she could was because of the moonlight filtering through the window.

"Wake up…It's just a dream."

She looked over to Stiles, who was lying on his bed surrounded by papers. He looked like he was asleep.

Slowly, she got up and walked over to his bed, repositioning her baggy shirt that shirt that she threw on before she left her house. The collar ended up falling off of one of her shoulders, but she ignored it.

"Stiles?" she asked. "Are you okay?"

She stood at the foot of the bed, and she could tell that he had been tossing and turning.

"Wake up…" he repeated, more desperately this time. He turned onto his side, curling in on himself.

"Stiles," she said, crawling onto the bed and putting a hand on his shoulder. "Stiles, it's okay."

His whole body was shaking, but he didn't feel cold. In fact, he was sweating.

She had to wake him up.

"Stiles," she said again, shaking him. "Stiles, get up! It's not real!"

"It's just a dream…"

"That's right, it's just a dream," she said. "Now wake up!"

He rolled onto his back, his chest heaving in obvious fear.

"Stiles!" she screamed, starting to get scared herself. "Stiles, wake up!"

Her voice cracked and she could feel the tears in her eyes. What if he couldn't wake up? Was it a side effect of the darkness, that he couldn't wake up from a tortured nightmare until it was finished with him? Why didn't she know the answers already? She was his emotional tether, she should know these things!

She kept on shaking him, but he gave no response other than tossing and turning.

She tried to stay calm, she really did, but she was breaking quickly. By the time she realized he _actually _ might not wake up until the nightmare was over, her brain was processing it as never waking up again.

"Wake up!" she yelled, "Stiles, wake up!"

Her brain was in panic mode, so trying to think of a solution was not working. So in sheer panic, she did the first thing that came to mind.

She kissed him.

As she pressed her lips to his, she almost immediately felt him tense. She pulled away and sat back, watching as Stiles sat straight up, arms flailing.

She breathed a small sigh of relief as she looked at him, her eyes wide as the panic subsided.

Taking deep breaths to steady himself, he laid back down for a second.

"Stiles?" she asked. "Are you okay?"

His eyes popped open and he looked at her with a confused expression. "Lydia, what are you doing here?"

"We fell asleep doing research," she said dismissively. "What were you dreaming about?"

"It was like a dream within a dream," he said, thinking. He got up quickly, surprising Lydia, and walked toward the half open door.

"Stiles, what are you doing?" she asked.

"I have to shut the door," he said.

"Why?" She was confused. "Just come back to bed."

"But they could get in," he argued, getting frantic.

"Who?" she asked, an uneasiness filling her stomach. "It was just a dream, Stiles. Come back to bed."

"But what if they get in?" he said.

"They won't," she replied. "Just come back to bed."

He looked at her for a second, debating her words. Finally, he shut the door and sat on the foot of the bed beside her and put his head in his hands.

"Do you wanna talk about it?" she offered awkwardly.

Sighing, he ran a hand down his face. "Um…not really? I just – I don't know how to explain it."

"Take your time," she said, putting a hand on his shoulder. "If you wanna talk about it, I'm here."

"Thanks," he replied sincerely.

They sat in silence for a while, and Lydia laid back on the bed, her legs dangling off from the knees down, feet several inched from the ground.

She knew that he hadn't been sleeping, but she had no idea that he was having nightmares. Atleast, not like that.

Shouldn't she have known that he was having this much trouble? She didn't even know how this tether thing was supposed to work after the whole sacrifice business, but she was pretty sure she should know when someone close to her was suffering.

She knew about Allison's hallucinations about Kate. Even though she wasn't extremely close with Scott, she knew that he was having trouble transforming. Why didn't she know about Stiles? She had been completely clueless, and Lydia Martin was never clueless.

Well, there was that one time that she was clueless for eight years about the honey-eyed boy sitting next to her, but never mind that.

"You were there," he finally said, pulling her out of her thoughts. "You were trying to scream, but you couldn't."

She sat up slowly, waiting for him to continue.

"I don't really remember that much, but you were there, and so was Alison and my dad-" his voice broke, and she saw his shoulders lift as he took a deep breath.

"Scott was there, too," he continued with a thick voice. "And there was so much blood. Blood on my hands, all over me. He said that it was me…"

His voice broke again, and he put his head in his hand, trying to calm down.

"I'm sorry," he said after a minute.

She didn't say anything, she just moved. She put her arm around him, and she felt him lean into her slightly. She rubbed his back soothingly, and after a minute, he laid his head in her lap. He pulled his legs up onto the bed, using Lydia's lap as a pillow.

She wasn't expecting it, but she didn't mind it at all. She ran a hand through his hair, starting at the base of the neck, knowing that it would relax him. Feeling him shiver, she couldn't help but smile a little.

"That feels really good," he said a minute later.

"Good," she replied. "It's supposed to. It'll help you relax."

They were both silent as she played with the hair on his neck, and she felt him relaxing little by little.

Finally, he sat up and it took everything in her not to tell him to lay back down.

"You know, I'm really glad you're here," he told her looking her in the eyes.

She stared back, her heart swelling at the sincerity and warmth radiating from his eyes. She would never get used to that, not that she wanted to.

"Me, too," she replied, smiling.

The longer they stared at each other, the more she wanted him to do something. She wasn't sure what, but there were butterflies in her stomach, and she wanted him to fix it. She watched as he licked his lips slowly, and the desire to feel them crashing into hers was so sudden and overwhelming that her breath caught. Looking away quickly, she took a deep breath, trying not to blush.

"Are you okay?" he asked, putting a hand on her shoulder. Her entire body tingled at the contact.

"I'm fine," she said breathlessly. He looked at her with those concerned filled eyes, and he squeezed her shoulder, sending a shill own her spine as she shuddered.

"Are you cold?" he asked worriedly. "Here," he reached back to grab a blanket, "why don't you-"

He was interrupted by her lips touching his. She pulled away before he could react as her senses came back to her.

"I'm sorry," she apologized. "That was rude of me. What were you saying?"

He was sitting there, eyes wide in shock, "I-I'm not sure."

They sat there awkwardly as Stiles tried to find words again.

"Was that a cold shiver?" he finally asked.

She rolled her lips and shook her head, knowing that he would see right through a lie.

She looked up at him and saw a glint in his eye that she recognized, but wasn't used to seeing it on him.

Pure, raw desire.

He cupped the side of her face, pushing her curls out of the way and kissed her hungrily. She kissed him back just as fiercely, opening her mouth as his tongue traced her lips.

Wasting no time, she climbed onto his lap, her legs on either side of his, her hands roaming his body. God, he was gorgeous. How could she have ignored him for so long?

He pulled away for breath, but she wasn't done. She left a trail of kisses down his neck, kissing each of his freckles.

"Lydia," he said, out of breath. His hand tightened around her thighs as he pulled her closer, and she looked her ankles behind his back.

"Lydia," he tried again, "what are-"

"Shut up and kiss me," she said, pulling his lips to hers. She didn't want to think. Thinking made her ignore him for eight years, and she didn't want to do that anymore.

He was the sweetest, most considerate, most beautiful man she had ever met, and she was pretty sure she was falling in love with him.

But right now she just cared about was getting as close to him as physically possible.

Her hands travelled down to the hem of his shirt and started pulling it up, running her hands over his abdomen. She felt the shudder go through his body as her nails grazed over his chest, and she couldn't help but smile against his lips.

They pulled apart briefly as she pulled his shirt over his head. Taking a breath, she placed her hands on his chest, tracing lines between the few freckles he had there. He was breathing heavily, and as she lowered herself back onto his lap to the freckles on his chest, she felt something…extra there.

A jolt of desire coursed through her and she pulled him down to kiss him again.

His arms wrapped around her waist, and she made a noise of indignation. He tried to pull away, but she held his face to hers. When she was sure he wasn't going to pull away, she took his hand and place them on either side of her ribcage, praying that he would get the hint. He did.

She moaned in pleasure as he caressed her breast, and she pulled out of the kiss to take off her shirt.

"Wait," he said breathlessly, grabbing her wrists as she pulled on the hem of her own shirt. He closed his eyes and sighed like he just thought of something.

"What?" she asked, confused.

He licked his lips – which did not help the stalemate at all – and looked her in the eyes. "What about Aiden?"

She froze. Aiden. She had completely forgotten about him. To be honest, she hadn't even thought about him since she saw him at school earlier that day.

Sighing, she climbed off of his lap and sat on the bed.

"That's what I thought," he said softly before blowing out a deep breath.

She was absolutely mortified.

"I'm so sorry," she said, her face in her hands.

"It's fine," he replied. "I, uh, I won't tell him. This never happened."

"You want to pretend like this never happened?" Lydia asked incredulously. She shook her head. "I don't think I can do that."

"Sure you can," he replied, and she thought she detected a bitterness in his tone. "You did it with the kiss."

She looked at him, and he was looking at his hands.

"I mean, understand that you just did it to stop my panic attack, and that it didn't mean anything to you, but it meant something to me." He paused, raising his head slightly. "Why did you want to make out with me?"

Did her seriously have to ask that question? "I think it's pretty obvious."

"Yeah," he nodded. "It was, uh, to, uh, distract me, right? So I wouldn't have to think about the nightmare?"

"What? No!" She couldn't believe he was suggesting such a thing. "That kiss meant something to me. This – what just happened – meant something."

"What?" he asked angrily. "What did a kiss with me, goofy Stiles, meant to you, perfect Lydia Martin?"

"Everything!" she yelled, standing up. He looked at her with wide eyes. "It meant everything. When I first kissed you, yeah, it was to help you. But as soon as our lips touched it was so much more than that. I haven't been able to get it out of my mind."

"Really?" he asked, his brow furrowed in confusion.

She nodded. "Every time I kiss Aiden, I think of you."

She meant every word she said.

"Then why are you still with him?" he asked, standing up himself.

She shrugged. "Because he's safe?"

"Safe?" he snorted. "Aiden. We are talking about the same guy here, right? The one who tried to kill a lot of people, and _succeeded_ in killing Erica and Boyd. Yeah, he's totally safe."

"He's _emotionally_ safe, moron," she said with a roll of her eyes.

"Emotionally safe?" he asked. "What does that even mean?"

She rolled her eyes again. Boys. "You know…safe. I don't have to worry with him. We have fun, and if it doesn't work out, then it's not that big of a deal."

"So…you're dating Aiden because it's 'no harm, no foul' if it doesn't work out?" he asked, obviously baffled by her logic. To be honest, when he said it, it didn't make that much sense to her either.

"I don't know," she said. "I just – I mean – it's like-"

"What about me?" he interrupted. "How emotionally safe am I?"

This is the last thing she wanted to talk about right now. Or ever.

"I, um…I should probably go," she said, going to grab her purse from beside the beanbag. "It's late."

She pushed past him to the door, but he caught her arm to stop her.

"Hey," he said, "tell me. How emotionally safe am I?"

She looked him straight in the eye. "You're not."

She shook his hand off and walked out.

"Lydia!" he called after her. She was halfway down the stairs when she heard him coming after her. "Lydia, wait!"

She stormed into the entryway right as the door opened and the Sheriff walked in.

"Hey, Lydia," he said, sounding tired. "Heading out?"

She nodded as Stiles came into the entryway, pulling his shirt back on.

"Lydia, just wait a minute," he told her.

"No," she snapped, her chest tightening at bother of her escape routes being blocked. She couldn't talk about this. Not now. She wasn't ready. "I should go."

"Is everything okay?" Sheriff asked, looking between the two of them.

"Everything's fine," she replied with a forced smile. "But I should be going. School night and all."

Sheriff Stilinski nodded suspiciously, but sensing that she needed escape, moved out of the way to the door.

Quickly, she opened it and walked off of the porch to her car.

"Lydia, please!" Stiles yelled after her. "Let's talk just for a minute!"

She looked to the doorway as she got in her car. Stiles was standing in the there, held back by his father's hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry, I can't!" she yelled back.

Driving off, she didn't look back.

How could she have been so stupid? She shouldn't have said anything. She shouldn't have kissed him. Why was she such an idiot? Talking about emotional safety to the person that was as safe to her emotionally as a spark of flame was to a dry forest.

Stiles Stilinski was the most dangerous boy she'd ever met. Because she was falling for him. Hard. He wasn't just Stiles, the idiot she ignored throughout most of their academic career. No, now he was Stiles, the sweet, loving, loyal, amazing man who was stealing her heart.

And she didn't know how to handle that.

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**As always, I'd love to hear what you guys think about it. Hope you have a happy New Year's!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Okay, I totally planned this to be a one-shot, but I got so many people asking me to continue it, that I decided I would do one more chapter.**

**I hope you like it!**

**I don't own Teen Wolf.**

* * *

Stiles slammed the front door, leaning his head against it. Frustrated, he banged his fist on the door-jam.

Why did he have to pusher her? Stupid, stupid, stupid.

"You wanna tell me what just happened?" his dad asked from behind him.

"I'm a complete idiot," Stiles replied, turning around and leaning back against the door.

"You always have been when it comes to her," his dad shrugged, crossing his arms. "That's what happens with girls. What's different this time?"

He looked down at his feet, reluctant to tell his dad what just happened. Not when he barely understood it himself.

He pushed off the door and made his way to the kitchen to grab some water.

"Stiles," his dad said. "What's different this time?"

He followed Stiles into the kitchen, watching as Stiles filled a glass with water and drank deeply.

Finally, Stiles put the cup down. "Apparently, I'm not safe."

"What do you mean, 'not safe'?" his dad asked with narrow eyes. "Stiles, if there's a threat, I need to know-"

"No, not like that!" Stiles interrupted. "I'm not safe…for her."

The older man's brow furrowed in confusion. "What?"

"Yeah," Stiles replied, leaning his hand on the counter. "Aiden's safer than I am. Like…emotionally."

His dad's brow smoothed as he nodded slowly. "I see."

"You do?" Stiles asked. "Then can you tell me? Because I'm completely clueless here."

Sighing, his dad settled against the counter. "Do you know what being 'emotionally safe' means?"

"Feeling safe emotionally," he replied. "Kind of self-explanatory, Dad."

"Then why don't you understand?" his dad countered with a raised.

"Okay," Stiles nodded, admitting defeat. "What does it mean?"

"It could mean a couple of things, his dad started. "It can mean feeling safe with someone because you know they're not going to toy with your emotions-"

"But I've never toyed with her emotions!" Stiles interjected.

"Then that leaves the other one," his dad said.

"Which is…?"

"Some people get…scared when they feel strongly for someone," his dad explained. "They feel that if they get too attached, and something bad happens…" he sighed. "They're afraid of getting hurt."

"So the less you feel about someone, the safer you feel,' Stiles said.

"Basically," his dad nodded.

"That still doesn't make any sense," he mused. "I mean, sure she cares for me, but not like that. I mean, we're friends. We do research together, we're there for each other, but she doesn't feel like-"

_Every time I kiss Aiden, I think of you_

"Oh my God, I am an idiot." He ran his hands through his hair. He had forgotten she said that with all the 'emotionally safe' talk. How could he forget that? Wasn't that what started that whole conversation?

"Stiles, what?" his dad asked.

"I, uh…" he couldn't form a coherent sentence. "I…She, uh…she said…something. I – I need to – I need to go."

He went for the door, but was stopped by his dad's hand on his arm.

"You can't go now," the man said.

"Why not?" He had to talk to her.

"You can't talk to her now," he told him. "She's upset. Let her calm down, then you can try to talk to her."

"But-"

"Stiles." His dad's voice was firm. "Trust me on this. Push her too hard, and it will only make things worse."

Stiles looked at his dad, and knew that he was right.

"Okay," Stiles nodded. "I'll, uh, wait until tomorrow."

His dad let go and Stiles went back up to his room to another sleepless night.

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Lydia walked to her locker, taking deep breaths through her nose. She was trying to stay calm, but she wasn't sure how long it would last if Stiles confronted her about last night.

Aiden was already at her locker when she got there.

"Good morning," he said with a charming smile.

"Morning," she replied forcing a smile herself.

He leaned down and kissed her, and Lydia saw the familiar flashes of someone else behind her eyes. The soft, chocolate brown hair, beautiful honey-gold eyes, long fingers tangling in her hair and caressing her gently…

Pulling out of the kiss, she opened her locker to check her lipstick.

"I gotta get to class," Aiden said as the bell rang. "But, I'll see you later?" He raised an eyebrow suggestively.

"Free period," she replied with a wink.

She watched him walk away before looking back in the mirror as the hall emptied out. When she was satisfied with her makeup, she shut the door and headed to class.

"Lydia!"

She stopped for a second, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath as the source of the voice caught up to her.

"Not now, Stiles," she said. "I'm late for class."

"I know, so am I," he replied. "But can we talk later?"

"About what?" she asked as she started walking again.

"About last night," he answered like it was obvious. Which it was.

She pretended to think. "Oh, that? No."

"Wha – no?" he asked. "I think this is something we need to talk about!"

"No, it's not!" she snapped, spinning around and almost running into him. "You said you would act like it didn't happen!"

"And you said you couldn't!" he yelled back. "And honestly, I was kidding myself when I said that! I can't pretend like it never happened, Lydia! I just…it meant too much."

Looking away, she closed her eyes. It had meant too much to her, too. But that's exactly why she couldn't deal with it.

"And you know what I think?" he said, lowering his voice as he stepped closer to her. "I think it meant a lot to you, too. And I think that it scares you that it meant so much to you. And I even know why you're scared, and I get it."

She looked at him with narrowed eyes. "What makes you think I'm scared?"

He raised an eyebrow at her. "Because I know you. I know what you've been through. The last guy you really cared about, it ended with him being a homicidal, bi-pedal lizard and moving across the world."

She looked away again with a sigh. "Look, I _really_ don't wanna talk about this right now."

"Then when can we?" he asked.

"I don't know," she shrugged, walking away.

"Lydia!" he called out. She kept walking, and he didn't follow.

"You know," he said. "You're not emotionally safe for me either!"

She slowed down, but she didn't stop. When she got to the classroom, she paused with her hand on the door. Looking back, she saw him standing there with his back to her, running his hand through his hair.

She took a deep breath to calm her emotions and went into class, leaving Stiles to his venting.

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Stiles was in a bad mood for the rest of the day.

He understood that she didn't want to talk about it. He wasn't mad at her. He was mad at himself.

He knew she didn't want to talk about it, but he pushed her – just like his dad told him _not_ to do –and now she was avoiding him. She had been avoiding him _all freaking day._

Stiles should've been used to it by now. She had spent eight years ignoring him, not even giving him the time of day. He already knew how that felt. But this was different. Now she knew him, and spent time with him, and apparently had _feelings_ for him, yet she was ignoring him like it was sophomore year all over again.

As the last bell rang, he saw Lydia dart out of class before anyone could say anything to her.

"Hey," Allison said, coming up to Scott and Stiles. "Do either of you know what's up with Lydia? I asked her if something was wrong at lunch, but she wouldn't say."

"No idea," Scott replied, pulling his backpack on. "She hasn't really talked to me today."

Stiles shrugged, not wanting to get into it. "She hasn't talked to me either."

It wasn't a lie.

"Hmm…" Allison said. "Weird. I guess I'll just have to ask her later, when she's ready to talk about it."

They said goodbye, and went their separate ways. Scott had to work, so Stiles headed home to do more research.

After searching for over an hour and not finding any new or helpful information, the doorbell rang.

He ran down the stairs to answer it, almost tripping over his backpack in the process.

"Dammit," he muttered as he opened the door. A petite, fiery-haired figure spoke before he could invite her in.

"What did you mean?" Lydia blurted out.

"What did I mean with what?" he asked, confused.

"You know what," she replied, putting a hand on her hip.

"No, I don't," he said. "You wanna come in?"

She stepped into the entryway and turned to face him as he shut the door. "What did you mean when you said I'm not emotionally safe for you? Because I know what I mean when I say it, and apparently so do you. But what do you mean when _you_ say it?"

He looked at her as she watched him expectantly.

"I don't know," he started. "Maybe because I've had a giant crush on you since the third grade, despite you completely ignoring me, and the fact that I was willing to die for you when you wouldn't even give me the time of day."

She looked down, her face screwed up into several different emotions that Stiles couldn't differentiate from each other.

"Or maybe," he continue, his voice getting louder and more urgent with each word, "just maybe, it's the fact that there are time where I have yet another sleepless night, or another horrible nightmare, and I feel like it's all too much and I can't take anymore! But then I see you, and you smile at me and tell me good morning, and suddenly it all seems freaking bearable again!"

He paused, breathing heavily from talking so urgently. Lydia looked at him with wide, surprised eyes.

"Does that fit your definition of emotionally safe, Lydia?"

"No," she answered softly, shaking her head. "Not at all."

"Well that's how I feel!" he said, "and I don't care if it's 'safe'!"

She bit her lip, shaking her head. "You don't get it Stiles. I…it's…complicated."

"No, I get it," he said. "I understand this feeling perfectly. You know why? Because I grew up with parents who were the exact opposite of 'emotionally safe' by your definition, okay? They loved each other so much that it hurt sometimes. Even as a kid, I saw that. My dad would come home from work, and you could feel the love between them, Lydia. It was _palpable_. You don't think they were afraid of something happening? My dad's a freaking cop! I could see the fear and worry in my mom's eyes if he was even five minutes late without calling. But he wasn't the one who died." He took a deep breath as tears sprung to his eyes, as Lydia just watched him with a torn expression.

"When my mom died," he continued, his voice shaking with the emotion that came with the memories. "I saw my dad's reaction, okay? He – he almost self-destructed from the pain and the grief, Lydia. I saw the entire future that he had planned crash and burn in his eyes, and I could almost hear his heart shatter into a million pieces."

"Why aren't you afraid after watching that?" she asked thickly, tears forming in her eyes.

"Because," he replied, "no matter how much it hurt him to lose the one person he loved like that, he was still thankful of the time they got. He wouldn't go back and change it. He would rather have the little time they had together than be too afraid to even try."

"How do you know that?" she said.

"Because he told me," Stiles answered.

Taking a deep, shaky breath, she closed her eyes and tears fell. "I didn't really have that example growing up."

"I know," he said, taking a step towards her. "But it doesn't mean that you can't have it. Whether it's with me, or-" he took another deep breath –" or with someone else, you should have that. You deserve it, Lydia."

She looked back up at him, and his mind flashed back to the Winter Formal. The expression on her face was the exact same one she had when he told her that she looked beautiful. Surprise from the unexpected statement, and something else that he couldn't place.

"Really?" she asked, mimicking that exact moment, and he realized what that something else was. Hope. Hope that someone believed that of her.

Nodding, he took her hand. "Yeah."

"Good," she replied with a small smile. "Because you have no idea how much I want that."

"You should," he told her.

They stood there for a minute, looking at each other.

"Stiles," she finally said, biting her lip and looking at their hands intertwined. "I'm still scared…"

He let go and took a step back, trying to give her space. "That's, uh, that's okay. It's not something you can just get over, I – I get it –"

"No," she interrupted, "let me finish."

She took a breath to steady herself. "I'm still scared, but only when I think about the 'what-ifs'. When I'm just there, it's natural, it's easy. I don't have to try to be anything, I'm just me. But then everything comes creeping in, and I think, 'I can't get closer'. It would already hurt too much if something happened to the sweet, loyal, honest, quirky boy in front of me." She took a step forward. "I can't get closer and risk getting hurt that much more."

He nodded slowly. "No, no, I get it. I understand."

She rolled her lips nervously and took his hand. "I don't want to be scared."

"No one ever does," he said simply, not looking her in the eye. He knew what she was going to say, and he didn't think he would be able to look at her while she said it. He already felt like his heart was being crushed in a car compactor from the thought.

"Look," he interrupted as she opened her mouth to speak again. "I know what you're going to say, and it's…it's okay. You don't have to say it." He stepped back again, sliding his hand out of hers.

"Stiles," she said. "What are you doing?'

Still not looking at her, he took another step back. He tried to tell her that it was nothing, but he couldn't get his voice to work. So he just stood there, trying not to show his heartbreak.

"Stiles, what's wrong?" she asked.

He shook his head slowly, trying to keep the moisture in his eyes at bay.

"Stiles," she said urgently, closing the distance he had made. "Look at me."

She put her hands on either side of his face and turned it to her. "I don't think you know what I'm going to say."

Confused, he felt his eyes marrow slightly. "What are you going to say?"

"I'm scared," she started. "Because of what I'm feeling for you, I'm terrified. But you know what? I've been terrified before – I mean, with our lives, who hasn't – and guess what I did?"

He blinked and shook his head, trying to process what was being said.

"I persevered," she answered. "I pushed through it. And I've decided that that's what I'm going do right now. Because this is different than the other things I've been afraid of, and I know that if I just try and let go of the fear, that…" she paused, as if trying to find the right words. He put his hand on top of hers and slid his thumb over it without thinking. With a small smile, Lydia continued. "That we can have something amazing. So that's what I'm going to do."

Suddenly, he could breathe again. She said the exact opposite of what he thought she would, and he couldn't believe it. But there was one problem…

"And Aiden?" he asked.

"I ended it," she said. "During free period today."

"Why?" he asked.

She softened her grip on his face and stroked her thumbs across his cheekbones, sending a shiver down his spine. He looked into her eyes, and there was seriousness to them.

"Because I'm done with playing it safe," she finally said before pulling him into a kiss.

A heat ran through him, almost like a flame igniting as he gently grabbed the back of her neck. It wasn't needy like the night before, but there was just as much passion behind it. It was something stronger, more cementing.

Lydia pulled away first, and both of them were short of breath. They rested their foreheads against each other, their breath mingling in the small space between their lips. They just stood there holding each other, content.

After a few minutes, Stiles head a throat clearing. "So, uh, Lydia, are you staying for dinner?"

They jumped apart, and saw his dad standing in the front entrance, the door open. There was a mixture of surprise and awkwardness, but he was trying to his a smile.

Lydia looked at Stiles, and he shrugged, signifying that is was up to her.

"Sure," she said. "If that's okay with you."

"Of course," his dad replied. "I don't mind at all."

He closed the door and shrugged off his jacket. "I hope you don't mind pizza. I'm not much of a cook."

Stiles smiled. His dad could cook, but only out of a box. The last time he tried to make something from scratch was lasagna when Stiles was eleven. You would think lasagna wouldn't be that difficult, but somehow, he messed it up. Who knew that pasta could be soggy and hard at the same time?

"Pizza sounds great," Lydia said with a smile.

"Good," his dad said.

After asking her preferred toppings, and Stiles making sure he would order a salad, his dad stepped into the kitchen to order.

"I have to warn you," Stiles said. "He might be asking you lots of questions. You know, first dinner with the girlfriend and all…"

"Girlfriend?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, uh, yeah," he replied, suddenly nervous. "I meant, if you want, we don't have to, you know, put labels on anything, no big deal, you know –"

"No," she said with a thoughtful smile. "I like it."

"Really?" he asked.

"Yeah," she answered, taking his hand. "But wait until you have the first boyfriend dinner with my mom."

He couldn't help but break into a smile at the thought. He was Lydia's boyfriend. Lydia was his girlfriend.

"Lydia," he said, squeezing her hand. "I would do absolutely anything for you."

"I know," she said softly. Then she took a deep breath, standing up straighter. "Even the dreaded 'Mom dinner'?"

"Even the dreaded 'Mom dinner'." He smiled, squeezing her hand again.

She smiled back and gave him a quick peck on the cheek before going into the kitchen with his dad.

As he followed her, he knew that he would go to Hell and back for her. He would do anything and everything in his power to keep her safe and happy.

And he knew that it wasn't 'safe', but he didn't care. Because she was done playing it safe, and honestly…he never had.

* * *

**What'd you think?**


End file.
